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Prologue

Harry's POV
The hunger is tearing me up inside. I haven't been able to eat for quite a while
now, as the Dursleys is keeping me at existence minimum. Nothing new there. The
running point is that my body needs nutrition more now than ever. Not only am I
a growing teenager, but I'm also recovering from my latest joust with Voldemort
. Madame Pomfrey gave me serious orders to eat plentiful and healthily during th
e holidays. I don't think she counted on my relatives though. There's no doubt I
will survive, but considering I'm well past being able to count my ribs¡
I live in the cellar now. The Dursleys actually spent some money on installing a
cot and a toilet down here during the term. Dudley finally convinced them that
he needed the second bedroom I guess. It's not too bad down here, if you conside
r how people on the street have it. Cold as hell, slightly damp and full of nice
little critters, but habitable. Not that it matters, as I'm too weak to appreci
ate it any more. I spend most of my time on my cot, buried beneath my quilt.
The Dursleys showed me here as soon as I arrived, telling me that I wouldn't hav
e to do any shores this year, that I instead would stay here for the summer and
be left alone. They even were so kind as to leave me my school things minus my w
and in here. Hedwig they let loose at my suggestion, and I guess she is either a
t Ron's or at Hogwarts. Food is provided once a day, but with Dudley on a diet a
gain, you can guess how much food I get. I quickly started to loose weight and t
hen the hunger kicked in. Now I've gotten so far as to not being able to eat any
thing without throwing up. I think it's a rather bad sign.
Feeling tired, like I've been feeling for a long while now, I huddle myself into
a ball, hugging the quilt tightly around me. It doesn't help against the hunger
, but at least it keeps to cold out. I can feel my eyes falling together, and I
know that the hell I live in will soon be replaced by the hell I dream of.
Sev's POV
Just for the record, I do hate Potter. The little brat could just stay away from
Hogwarts for the rest of his life and hide for all I care. However, Dumbledore
doesn't share my opinion of the annoyance of my life. He thinks I should be nice
to spoiled, arrogant Potter with his famous name and family fortune. My only co
mment to that is: 'I would rather be hit by a dozen of Cruciatus curses'. And be
cause of that all too accurate comment, I'm on my way to the Dursley house to pi
ck up the little monster so he can meet his cold-hearted, bastard godfather, who
m is even worse than he is.
Still blazing over the unfair mission I've been given, I jump off my broom behin
d a strategically conjured bush and dust off my impeccable black slacks and shir
t after leaning the broom against a wall. The reason I chose not to Apparate her
e, is that I really don't like that way of travelling. It makes me sick, and rem
inds me of Voldemort. I always have to Apparate to his manor when I'm summoned b
efore him. And that is one of the most unpleasant things you can experience.
I walk over to the plain door and promptly knock on it, wearing an expressionles
s face. I can hear feet walk over to the door, and then it opens, revealing the
fattest boy I've ever seen. He could easily win a weight competition with a rhin
o, and isn't more than a few inches taller than Potter. Disgusting. Another proo
f of the spoilage going on in this house. I'm surprised Potter isn't as fat as h
e is.
"Dudleykins? Who is it?"
The voice belongs to a woman, and as she speaks, 'Dudleykins' glares at me.
"Some man with yellow skin" he yells back, his voice sounding like a tortured pi
g.
Yellow skin? I can see where Potter's insolence comes from. A fat man is coming
from what I deduce to be the living room, an impatient look on his face as he st
ares at me. This family sure isn't one of the nicest muggle families I've met in
my life. Potter fits right in with them.
"What do you want?" the man bellows at me.
I glare back at him, my best Death Eater expression on my face.
"I'm here to fetch Potter," I curtly answer, not wanting to spend more time than
needed with Potter and his family.
To my surprise, 'Dudleykins' pales and shrieks, running away while holding his b
utt possessively. Strange boy. The man just glowers at me though, probably think
ing he's intimidating. Personally, I have a rather easy time to not cower before
him.
"So you're getting the boy early this year," the man snarls, a pompous look on h
is face, making me wonder for a second if thinking you're above everyone else go
es in Potter's family. "Well, take him with you and do feel free to keep him."
Muggles! I glower at him and step into the house while pondering his last senten
ce. If my skills at interpreting the human language hasn't wilted and died, the
man indicated that Potter wasn't much liked by his relatives. But they were his
family, and aren't family supposed to love each other?
"Just hand over the boy and his things," I coldly say, somewhat absently I have
to admit though. The situation I've stumbled into puzzles me, I haven't seen a g
lint of Potter so far ¨C but then again, if Potter's family behaves like this to
him I don't blame him from keeping his distance. Maybe he has a handful of brai
ns in that Gryffindor head after all. "And I may refrain from hexing you."
The man glares at me but waddles over to a locked cupboard, reaching into it to
take out Potter's wand. I can't imagine what it's doing in there either. If it i
s something that Hogwarts teaches, it's to always keep your wand near. You would
think that Potter with his attraction to trouble would have learned that by now
. But seemingly not.
Taking the wand the man offers me, I pocket it and follow the very ireful man to
Potter's room. To my surprise, he doesn't lead me upstairs, where the bedrooms
must be, but lead me to the kitchen and a door next to the larder. Taken by surp
rise, I stare at the barred door that obviously lead down to the cellar. Potter
can't be kept and barred into the cellar, can he?
Confirming my suspicions, the man reaches out to heave away the heavy beam block
ing the door. They are keeping Potter locked into the cellar. Quickly, I shove t
he man to the side, ignoring the fact that he falls to his butt and whisper 'alo
homora' under my breath, directing the magic to the bar and door before me. Bar
falling apart, the door turning into dust due the will behind the spell. And I a
m angry.
I stare down the dimly lit staircase leading down into the ground. A cellar. The
y put him in a cellar. Mentally, I try to repress the panicked flashbacks of dar
kness, of fear, of loneliness and pain from my childhood to concentrate on the n
ow. This is not good, and I truly fear what I will find at the bottom of the sta
irs. For if they can lock a teenager into a cellar, what else can they do? Potte
r may not be my favourite person of all time, but no student of mine will ever h
ave to go through something like this. Because I know all too well what it can d
o to you.
Rapidly descending down into the cellar, I concentrate as much as I can on the n
ow instead of the past memories that keep resurfacing. Shuddering involuntarily,
I murmur a 'lumos' to my wand to light up the staircase further and chase away
the memories of being alone and scared in the darkness.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I look around, searching for the figure of th
e boy Harry Potter. His relatives apparently were nice enough to install a toile
t down here, and I can see the outline of a small cot on the other side of the r
oom. But even so, it's far below the living standards I consider acceptable. Esp
ecially considering the bar upstairs.
Stepping further into the room, I spot him, lying on the cot with a quilt wrappe
d tightly around him. Judging from his trembling form and the cool air down here
, he is cold. If he has been living down here since he returned from Hogwarts, I
wouldn't be surprised if I have to make a coughing cure. He needs to get out of
here.
The light I carry seems to wake him up, causing him to sit up and squint at me t
hrough the meagre light, staring uncomprehendingly at me for a second before rec
ognizing me.
"Professor Snape?" his voice is quiet as if he hasn't used it for some time and
I can barely hear him. Something that is more than possible with those muggles u
pstairs.
"Yes," I curtly say, my voice somewhat softer than usually.
His face lightens up and he gets to his feet slowly, as if every move he makes i
s a pain, dropping the blanket in the process. And when I see how he looks, I ha
ve to withhold a strangled cry. Potter has never been a very big boy, despite th
e fact that neither of his parents were what you can call small. Now I understan
d why. Because if Potter was thin before, he's a skeleton now. I've never seen a
nyone so thin outside pictures before. There's no doubt about the reason either.
The inhuman worms upstairs haven't been feeding him enough.
"Potter," I carefully say, walking over to the boy, "Listen to me carefully now.
How long was it since you got any food?"
He gives me a weak grin as the Gryffindor he is.
"Today," he rasps, pushing a longish strand of black hair from his face. "Some f
ruit. I couldn't keep it though. I haven't been able to do that for a while now.
"
Damn. That's it. He's going to Poppy now. And he's not going back here. Ever. No
t while I'm still standing. Pointing at him with my wand, I mutter a short spell
intending to put him into a healing rest. Then I lift him into my arms and Appa
rate. I can come back for the broom later. Right now, I have more important thin
gs to do.
Harry's POV
End of 5th year
I watch Hedwig as she flies down to me, carrying the last mail I will get in my
5th year ¨C the results of the OWLs. Glancing at Hermione, I can see how she alm
ost jumps up and down of anxiousness. As if she has anything to worry about. Ron
however, is glumly looking at his plate, obviously expecting a not too good res
ult, even though Hermione has tried to prepare us since our first year. I though
, just hope for the best. It has been really hard to pass the tests this year.
Much has happened this year. With Voldemort revived, even if not 'officially' du
e to Fudge's slight denseness, it has been all action and adventure. And please
notice the sarcasm. Professors have been coming and going all over the place, ou
t on unofficial missions for the Order of Phoenix. Especially Snape. I think he
didn't even teach half of our lessons this year. And even though it feels strang
e to say it, our replacement, professor Sicklewing, isn't nearly as good as he.
The Order of Phoenix. I still remember when I heard of it last summer, eavesdrop
ping on Dumbledore. Then, I didn't know much about them, now I know much more. I
can't say I like them too much though. But that may have something to do with t
hem using me as beat at the end of the year to catch a bunch of death eaters. Of
course, they managed to botch it up, and I ended up having a little talk with H
is Silliness Voldemort. Over a fireplace thank lord, after managing to dispose o
f the death eaters with Ron and Hermione.
Speaking of Hermione, she has gotten her result now and is reading it intently,
her eyes wide.
"I made it!" she shrieks. "I have the best grades in our year!"
I smile at her and receive my own letter from Hedwig, waiting with opening it th
ough, seeing as Ron just received his and is opening it with shaking hands. And
as his eyes widen, I know he has succeeded.
"I got more OWLs than Fred and George," he excitedly says. "Three more even. Gue
ss if mom's going to be happy!"
Both Hermione and I laugh with him, clapping him on his shoulders.
"Well done!" I smile, happy for him. "Did you get any in potions, or did Snape d
rag down your result again?"
Ron shakes his head no, and Hermione looks wonderingly at Snape.
"Is it my imagination, or has Snape been easier on us this year?" she asks. "I c
an't think of even one occasion he's failed someone without reasons or been unus
ually hard on us."
Ron Iooks at her as if she's gone mad.
"Are we talking about the same person here?" Ron sceptically asks. "Snape, the s
limy git whose only goal in life is to make everyone's life miserable?"
Hermione glares at him, but doesn't mention it again. Instead, she turns to me,
looking expectantly at me.
"Well?" she questions. "How did you manage?"
I shake my head and take my letter. Then I break the seal and draw out the paper
, scanning the paper and smiling. I managed quite well. I even have three OWLs i
n Transfiguration, as well as in flying, but I guess that is to be expected. Wha
t I didn't expect though, were the two OWLs I got in Potions.
Frowning, I ponder everything that has happened since Snape picked me up from th
e Dursleys last year. Maybe Snape has changed¡
Snape's POV
Watching obtrusively as the three musketeers of Gryffindor open their letters, I
smirk slightly at their expressions, only to frown as I think about the things
I have learned this year. After fetching Harry for Dumbledore, I engaged in a li
ttle spy activity in the muggle district Surrey, set on finding the truth about
Harry Potter. The result wasn't too nice. Apparently the Dursleys are well known
for caring for a 'hopelessly criminal boy' who's not 'quite in possession of hi
s mind'. In short, they consider him a freak of nature.
I shudder at the thought of it. It is hard enough growing up without anyone to l
ove and care about you, but to grow up with constant reminding that you are a fr
eak? Something makes me doubt Harry knows much about the love of a family at all
. But that is something I'll do my best to correct. I may not be the ideal perso
n to do it, but I certainly have the motivation. Hopefully, that will be enough
to begin with¡
Dumbledore's POV
Severus is clearly fretting over the decision he has made, no matter how many ti
mes I've told him that he will be just fine. He and Harry will no doubt be good
for each other. Harry needs a family, and Severus needs to live again. Even if I
can see that having someone to care about is warming him up already¡
Next
Chapter One Harry's POV
Looking at the train, I feel uneasy as I think of what will come. Another summer
spent in isolation and discomfort at the Dursleys. Faintly, I wonder what will
happen to me this summer. After all, last summer wasn't one of the most pleasant
I've had in my life. Even if you cannot call any of them pleasant. That summer,
I really wondered if what I was going through was right, if this was truly some
thing I should put up with. At the end of the summer, I was seriously starting t
o doubt that I could trust the Dursleys anymore. They are family, but what they
caused me to become then isn't easily forgiven.
I have to admit I probably would have come out much worse if not Snape had come
to fetch me to Hogwarts that summer at Dumbledore's request (due to Sirius wanti
ng to visit me). Never had I been so happy to see old nasty Snape in his dramati
c black robes and greasy hair as then. But then again, he wasn't nasty at that t
ime. He was actually rather nice. And more worried than I ever would have pegged
him to be about the abhorred Boy Who Lived. When I woke up, I was in the hospit
al wing, being treated for malnutrition. Dumbledore was not very pleased with th
e Dursleys right then. Neither was Snape judging from his disgusted look as he t
old the headmaster about it. Needless to say, I stayed with Sirius alternatively
the Weasleys the rest of that summer, recovering.
Anyway, here I am, standing at the station in Hogsmeade and preparing to board t
he train and go back to Uncle Vernon and the rest of my loving relatives. Feelin
g tired and not so little negative. I mean, I have just spent another year under
the threat of Voldemort, a revived one at that. One would think that this shoul
d be the best part of the year. Instead, this is worse than a face off with Vold
emort. At least all he wants to do is kill me and maybe torture me. The Dursleys
seem to think that I don't have the right to exist. Is this what family is supp
osed to be like?
With a resigned sigh, I heft my trunk onboard the train and try to step onboard
myself. However, that is apparently not my fate as a strong hand with long, slen
der fingers grabs my arm and holds me back, another hand directing the trunk bac
k onto the station with a wand.
"And where do you think you're going?" a low, all too dangerous voice asks, belo
nging to my all too despised potions teacher.
I gulp and turn around, facing the dark and very pissed Death Eater-turned-spy.
What have I done wrong now?
"To the Dursleys?" I say with as much courage I can muster. Where else would I b
e going? It's the only home I have!
One of the dark eyebrows disappears behind the drape of greasy black hair always
hanging in his face.
"No, you are not" he simply says. "Or do you want to go back to living in the ce
llar, unloved and uncared for?"
I shake my head furiously. Which sane person would want to live in a cold, dim,
isolated and lonely cellar, forgotten by all? Someone maybe, but certainly not I
. But it isn't as if I have an alternative.
"Good" Snape nods, grabbing his wand. "Mobiliarbus."
My trunk raise into the air, pulled by invisible strings. Then, Snape starts to
guide us both back to Hogwarts. My faithful trunk and I. And we are both thoroug
hly confused by this new turn of events.
Snape lets go of my trunk and me the moment we are inside Hogwart's walls guidin
g the latter gently to the ground. The next second, he strides off down one of t
he many corridors, no doubt heading towards the dungeons, leaving me alone and u
tterly confused.
"All right" I mutter. "What to do."
I shrug, choosing to simply sit down on my trunk, waiting for something to happe
n. In normal case, I would've called for Dobby and his friends asking them to ge
t my trunk to my room in Gryffindor's tower, but this isn't a normal case. It is
unheard of to let a student stay at Hogwarts over summer since Riddle's framing
of Hagrid, and I don't know what to do.
Bored, I stare at the intricate pattern on the ornate doors leading out. As far
as I can tell, there are thirty-nine roses on it. Forty-five minutes later, I al
so know there are 205 bumblebees hidden on it. I am just about to start counting
the trees scattered all over it when I hear steps closing in on me.
Relieved that someone is finally coming, even as it most probably is Snape, I ri
se and turn towards the sound. I really don't know what I expect to see, but it
certainly isn't a newly showered Snape with his now non-greasy hair in a ponytai
l and dressed in muggle pants, a tight, black tee and an open robe. It has to be
an illusion.
"Quit staring, Potter"
On the other hand, maybe it isn't, I conclude. He is carrying a sleek, black bro
om in one hand and a trunk is trailing behind him, upheld by the magic of his wa
nd. Apparently, he is leaving, only the gods know to where.
"Well, come on, Potter" he irritated says, his voice somewhat annoyed. "We haven
't got all day."
And apparently soon me as well. This has to be one of the strangest days ever. T
aking his lead, I grab my pocketed wand and mumble the appropriate spell to make
my trunk trail after me like a puppy. I am apparently following Snape this summ
er, and I cannot really decide what I think of it.
Well outside, I find that Snape has mounted his broom and is waiting impatiently
for me. Deciding not to make him grouchier than he already is, I do the same an
d look expectantly at him.
"Sir?" I ask, using as little words as possible, as I still don't know where I h
ave him. It seems to be safer to assume that he, like the Dursleys, prefer when
I'm quiet and out of sight. I mean, this is my grouchy, bad tempered pain-in-the
-ass potion professor, but he's also the man who has taken me from the Dursleys
and is almost pleasant in his free time. My assumption doesn't seem to suit him
well though, because he frowns, almost glaring at me.
"We are going to my cottage" he enlightens me, a slightly exasperated key to his
voice. "And school's over for now. You may as well call me Severus like everyon
e else. Or Sev if you prefer that."
Did my ears just hear that? I am beyond baffled. Did Snape just allow me to call
him by his first name? His petname? This world is definitely ending. But I don'
t get any more time to think about it, as Snape ¨C no, Severus, I'm not about to
risk calling him Sev, it's hard enough to call him Severus ¨C kicks off, forcin
g me to follow. Still, the thoughts jumble in my mind. Sev? Cottage? I have neve
r seen this side in Snape. Nevertheless, I can already say I like it better than
his usual self.
Sev's POV
I'm still raging at the thought of what Harry had to endure last summer. And pro
bably all the other summers and years he spent with the Dursleys. How can one do
such a thing to a child, let alone a relative? But then again, who am I to judg
e, Death Eater as I am. Or was. I've killed children after all, tortured them, f
elt pleasure in their pain. Even my own¡
I shake those thoughts from my head. There's no use in going on a guilt trip rig
ht now, everything is hard enough as it is. I mean, look at the present situatio
n! I'm flying a few kilometres above the ground within an anti-muggle bubble. Th
e adolescent I've practically harassed since the first time I met him is followi
ng me tight on my heels, probably trying to figure out why I'm so nice to him so
suddenly. Then there's the fact we're going to my cottage, where I haven't brou
ght anyone since that day, after allowing Harry to see me more casual than I've
shown myself in public for a long time. Then we have the fact that Sirius Black
and his werewolf friend Remus is going to go berserk on me when they find out ab
out the situation. Well, maybe not Remus Lupin, he's always been the more sensib
le of them, but can you say 'strange situation'? Add the fact that the boy is ta
rgeted by Voldemort, the one I serve, and you have a big mess. Literally.
I glance back at the boy riding behind and to my left. He's fifteen years old, y
et he is only 5'2" tall, and neither of his parents was very short. My guess is
the lack of a healthy life has inhibited his growing process, especially the eve
nts last summer. However, I will certainly fix that. A restore-your-growth potio
n and a healthy living for the summer will do.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Famous all over the world for the way Voldemort
failed in killing him and lost his powers on the way. Harry lost his parents, a
nd for that, I feel sorry even though I wasn't particularly fond of his parents.
No child should have to endure that ¨C I should know.
But the saddest thing is how the family given to him has treated him. Locked awa
y, shouted at, being called an anomaly. And from what I saw last summer, he seem
s to view that as normal.
He's so pale. Almost sickly so. But then again, who wouldn't be after enduring w
hat he has endured all his life. I would be ¨C if I hadn't inherited the would-b
e golden skin (if I had more sun that is) from my mother. Instead, I'm pale yell
ow. It's strange that we're so alike in many ways, yet I haven't realized it unt
il now.
Oh, crap. There's the bloody ravine. One would've thought I would've gotten used
to the abrupt turn by now and not almost crash right into the mountainside ever
y time I go home by now. But no. Severus Snape, potions teacher and ex-chaser in
Slytherin's Quidditch team always just manage to stay clear of a solid, 700 fee
t tall cliffside. In addition, as I look back at Harry, I can see he neatly stay
ed clear of it and is looking like he is trying to conceal his amusement. It isn
't working.
Deciding that this is a time as good as another to start the process to gain Har
ry's trust, I let myself crack, smiling for the first time in years, chuckling s
oftly for the first time in over a decade. And as Harry sees I seem to not care
much about it, he lets a small smile out. It's certainly not much, but it's a be
ginning. It has to be the first time either of us is at ease with each other.
However, it is getting dark, and even though I would prefer to use the slight op
ening I've gained, we sure don't have time to hover by the beginning of the ravi
ne leading to my home and smile all evening. Therefore, I start to move again, s
till smiling slightly. And when Harry follows, I can sense that my little mishap
gained me my first few feet of ground.
My 'cottage', a simple two-story house in a solitary part of Wales' Mountains, h
as been in my family for centuries. From the beginning, it was a simple hunting
cabin now it is my home. Built in natural wood and situated by a small stream, i
t's a wonderful place to live if you want a peaceful and beautiful home. In the
summer, a wonderful garden with flowers in all possible colours grows around it,
scenting the air with heavenly tastes. And to be honest, I love it.
However, as we land, it's already dusk, and we can't see the beauty of the place
. Besides that, both Harry and I are dead on our feet. So, I decide to just get
us inside and into bed to get some sleep. Which was a wise decision judging from
the way Harry's stumbling after me, ignorant of all and everything.
Smiling slightly, I whisper a soft 'alohomora' to open the door and step into th
e warmth of home. And for once, I'm not overcome with pictures of the past, but
feel only concern for the very sleepy fifteen year old staggering after me.
Seeing to that he let his trunk loose, I lead him to one of the bedrooms, the on
e which once belonged to my beloved Alisha. He promptly falls onto the bed, asle
ep as soon as he touches the cover, leaving it to me to bed him down, haunted by
the memories of when I did the same thing to another child. A dark blonde littl
e girl with the bluest eyes in the world. My daughter Alisha. The second victim
by my hands in my service to Voldemort.
Next
Chapter Two Harry's POV
When I open my eyes, I first think I'm in heaven. An easy mistake with the movin
g clouds on the walls and ceiling together with the sunlight beaming into the ro
om from behind me. That, and the fact that the floor around me consists of some
sort of fluffy, soft and pleasurably warm material in white. It looks like a mis
t covers the floor. But then, I sit up and find that I have been lying on a bed
covered with a white down quilt, a gorgeous ferret like creature (just a lot flu
ffier with a longer tail, like some sort of angora ferret with a three feet tail
) cuddled next to me. When it senses that I have moved, it squeaks and runs up m
y body to perch itself on my shoulder, wrapping its long tail around my thin tor
so.
I smile at that, and softly pet it while wondering where Snape possibly can be.
Moreover, where I am. I seem to remember I made a very believable impression of
a zombie when we got here last night, and didn't see or hear anything. Flying on
a broom for almost thirteen hours tends to do that to you. Especially Snape it
seems. It had been priceless seeing his expression after almost running into the
side of the ravine. He had taken it a lot better than I would've thought, even
smiling at himself. It made me loosen up more to him than words ever could have
done.
Then suddenly, I hear a knock and a door opens up in the wall opposite of me, re
vealing Severus, clad in worn jeans and a black tee sporting the word 'Slytherin
' in silver on the chest, a sad smile on his uncharacteristically gentle express
ion.
"Good morning, Harry" he softly said. "I see you've met Honey."
I frown. Honey? Who's Honey?
He must have seen my expression, because he chuckles and points at the creature
on my shoulder. I smile embarrassedly and look down.
"How come you have a creature like her?" I ask, still not trusting this changed
Snape completely, but definitely confidant enough to express myself around him.
After all, if he's all right with me smiling at him, he can't freak out because
I'm talking to him, right?
A strange noise sounds and I look up, just in time to catch a sad and ashamed, n
ot to mention guilty, expression flashing over Snape's face. Something is wrong.
"She belonged to me when I was a child" he finally says. "I was going to give hi
m to my child one day, but it's impossible now."
He looks up, not quite managing to smile. The serious expression on his face is
close enough to his teacher one to make me shudder. I am right. Something is wro
ng. Something has happened here, something bad. I can feel it in my very bones.
"It's breakfast," Snape abruptly says. "Just tap the wall beside the door and yo
u'll find your belongings. Please dress and come down."
I nod, still stunned by Snape's violent reaction to my innocent question, automa
tically reverting to silent mode again. I'm also pondering the fact he told me h
e couldn't give Honey to his child. Even as he's ancient for someone in my age (
Sirius told me he is thirty-six, the same age as Snape) it's common knowledge th
at men can still produce children at that age. He should be able to give Honey t
o his child yet.
I decide to put the matter on the shelf for a while, mostly for the reason that
I'm really hungry. Therefore, I did what Snape asked me to do. Imagine my surpri
se when I find myself staring at a wardrobe filled with mugglecloths in my size.
A true novelty after only wearing Dudley's cloths for so long. Another side to
the spectrum that is Snape.
Choosing quickly, I grab a pair of jeans and a simple, emerald tee with a dragon
to go with them and dress quickly. Then I open the door and step out into the r
eality. Or rather onto a balcony leading around the huge living room below. A li
ving room, which differently to what one could believe isn't decorated in silver
and green, but midnight blue and white. It is inviting and light, furnished wit
h a couch with a matching, small table by an open fireplace and small groups of
comfortable armchairs and tables scattered over the rest of the room.
Ten feet away from me, I can see a staircase leading down to it, in dark, polish
ed wood. And as Snape told me to come down, I do as he asked. I don't want to ir
ritate him in any way. Irritation leads to anger, and anger leads to consequence
s I most likely won't like. It doesn't help much though, since Snape isn't in th
e living room. Deciding to test the doors, I find that the closest door leads ou
tside and so can't lead to Snape. Therefore, I test one to my right and find a s
pacious office. The third door I try, lead outside too, but to a beautiful insid
e garden. On the other side though, I can see the kitchen. With Snape inside, pr
eparing something. So, I carefully make my way through the garden and open the d
oor on the other side.
"Severus?" I question, remembering his plea for me to use his given name this su
mmer.
He jumps slightly, whirling around to look at me. The expression in his face sho
ws surprise and not so little confusion.
"And why, Harry, did you come that way" he asks, an amused look now in his face
"when there's a staircase leading here?"
Apparently, he's in a good mood again. I look questioningly at him. I didn't see
any staircase leading to the kitchen. Snape sighs and turns to the stove to eas
e the pan off the plate as its contents started to burn. While he does that, a l
ittle whirlwind of fur come from nowhere, running up my body. Surprised, I let o
ut a small cry, making Snape jump for the second time this day. But when he turn
s around, he's smiling.
"There's no use leaving her alone" he tells me, a soft, quiet laughter in his vo
ice. "She'll just find you again. And when it comes to the staircase, you'll hav
e to call out the name of the area you want to descend to. This house is built i
n two parts, with no inside connection between the two of them, you see. Hence a
magic staircase to keep them connected."
I nod foolishly. I should have seen that a wizard lives in a wizard's cottage. O
f course the staircase can move.
"But you couldn't know that" Snape continues to my surprise.
He seems to have seen the face I made, because he smirks at me, but not in the w
ay he used to. This smirk is more, harmless. You couldn't help but see he don't
mean anything with it. Then he gestures to my left, making me aware of the table
littered with food.
"Breakfast" he says, grinning slightly. "And if you eat enough, you'll get to as
k all those questions I can see you want to ask."
Needless to say, I dive onto the table. As I am both hungry and curious about th
is whole situation, this is great. Snape follows me too, but not as quickly. He
sits down across of me, watching while I eat and sipping on some strange liquid,
which is neither tea nor coffee.
It's easily the strangest breakfast I've ever eaten. Meat, bread and butter were
mixed with carrots, salad and apples, making up a very balanced meal if I ever
got the human body's need for nutrition down right. If I hadn't eaten it, I woul
d never even have guessed that Snape knew how to eat healthy. But I can't eat fo
r all eternity, and when I finally put down my glass, Severus gives me a slightl
y amused grin, one of the things that make these two days so strange.
"A promise is a promise," he says. "Ask away, Harry."
I smile nervously. Even though I'm not sure about this new Snape, I want, no nee
d answers.
"Well," I say, hesitant to ask. "Why are you so nice to me? I mean¡"
I trail off. Snape sighs and put down his cup to look me squarely in the eyes.
"To do that, boy, to answer that question" he seriously says "I have to bring up
some not too nice memories for both you and me."
I silently nod.
"I think I need to know," I carefully say, trying to look less desperate than I
am.
"So do I," is his only response.
Sev's POV
It feels bizarre, sitting in my kitchen, watching a boy like Harry watching me,
my old pet Honey on his shoulder. And it feels strange to smile without feeling
guilty for it, to let the self I've buried deep inside as a punishment show itse
lf. Because here in my home, the shadow of the old Severus Snape remains to watc
h me from the past. The Death Eater and one of Voldemort's closest men, one of t
he most vicious men at that time. Not to mention it feels strange being the pers
on I am and not the shielded act I do at Hogwarts, especially together with some
one like Harry.
He knows what he needs answers to, I have to give him that. But I don't know how
to answer. Because when I do that, I will have to reveal things. Things that ne
ither Harry nor I want to examine closer.
"I'm an orphan, and I have been one since I was a small child."
That isn't the prelude I had planned to use. Judging from the startled look on H
arry's face though, it is as good as any.
"My parents, Duncan and Zahrah Snape, died when I was six months old, or so peop
le tell me. Apparently, they had gone to visit an old friend, Riddle, leaving me
with a babysitter. They never returned. However, differently from you, I didn't
grow up with relatives. I grew up at an orphanage. The same orphanage that once
held Tom Riddle. And they treated me and everyone else there, just about the sa
me way as the Dursleys treats you. Like a freak that didn't deserve to exist."
It hurt thinking about it, even as it is long past, long forgotten in history. B
ut at the same time, it feels nice having someone to talk to. And Harry listens.
I can see it in his eyes, read it in his posture. He cares. And now, he also st
arts to understand.
"I think that's a big part of why I hated you. The fact that I disliked James ha
s really nothing to do with it. It was the fact that while you was fostered by r
ich relatives in a beautiful house, I was fostered at a terrible orphanage with
no one to love me, even though our lives had been so similar until then."
And within his eyes, I can finally see what I should have seen from the beginnin
g. Resentment over how his relatives treated him. Realization that he was no fre
ak and that no one had the right to call him that. And last but not least, under
standing of the situation, his history and me. It makes me think it was worth br
inging all this pain to the surface again.
"The Dursleys didn't love me," he says suddenly, his voice tight and controlled;
yet shaking with emotions. "They hated me, still hates me."
"I know" I silently reply. "Now. I finally understood that last summer when I ca
me to fetch you. You lived in hell, not the paradise I placed you in. And that w
as the beginning to the change. I couldn't just leave you there, facing those ap
palling people. Already when I got back to Hogwarts I made a deal with Dumbledor
e to take care of you this summer."
"Thank you" Harry softly replies. "It means more than you know."
And I can read in his voice that he realizes what I do for him. I nod slightly,
startled to find tears rolling down my cheeks, just as they do on his. With a sw
ift movement, I move towards Harry and am met in the middle, meeting him in a wa
rm hug, so much needed for both of us. I have managed to break down another wall
and in this moment, nothing is between us.
His thin body feels so fragile against mine, and I am not bulky by any means. No
w I know why, but he doesn't really know why I am so thin, why I steadily loose
weight. But he doesn't need to know. Even if he wonders. Maybe I'll tell him som
e day, about my family. Not today though. I'm not ready yet. For he is not the o
nly one with past ghosts.
Instead, I let myself relish in the hug, finding the comfort I so badly need. An
d in that moment, I know that I might still have a chance to have a family again
. Maybe¡
Harry's POV
I understand why he disliked me so much now. I really do. Nevertheless, I wish I
had known earlier, maybe then, I could've helped him, made him understand. Beca
use I feel that this is the first time, he lets himself grieve. As it is the fir
st time, I do the same. But because of a whole other reason. This is the first t
ime I realize I have the right to grieve.
To loose one's parents is a horrible thing. Probably even more so when you knew
them. So, in that way, both Severus and I have it easier, if you can call it tha
t. Yet, both of us grew up under horrible circumstances. Him at the orphanage, m
e with the Dursleys. I would wish neither to no one.
He is thinner than I thought. But maybe it isn't so strange. I would get sick to
my stomach too if I had to meet Voldemort so often as this man do. Yet, I can s
ense there's something else behind it. Something he isn't telling me. I don't bl
ame him for it. This revelation is only one step of many, but an important such.
I feel him hugging me closer and I do the same, wetting his shirt with my tears.
Somehow, I feel close to him in a way I don't even feel with Sirius. Maybe, it
is because I've known him longer, but I don't think so. My thought is that it's
rather the similarities between our upbringings. We understand how it feels grow
ing up without love and it makes us closer.
With that, I don't mean I don't love Sirius, because I do. And I don't mean I lo
ve Severus either. I do not completely trust the man yet after all. I just mean
we understand each other in a way Sirius and I never can. But it would be even g
reater if Sirius could be a part of this too.
Living with the Dursleys constantly reminding me about my parents' demise, I gre
w accustomed to thinking that my chance at having a family was lost forever. Now
, I know it's not. But I still wish Severus would tell me what's really botherin
g him¡ However, this is not something I have the right to worry about yet. Beca
use even as we are beginning to get closer, to trust each other, there's still a
long road before us. But I could come to love this man, to trust him. And I tru
ly hope I will.
Chapter Three
Sev's POV
After that genuine scene in the kitchen, I bring him outside. Moreover, if my pl
ans go right, he will be just there the most of the summer. He needs sunlight, a
nd that very badly. However, I do not want him to be in any danger because of th
at. And the home of a Death Eater isn't the least dangerous place you can hide i
n, even if a spell warning you of people Apparating in, flying in or flooing in,
is woven around the house. People visit, and not only when you are expecting th
em. Voldemort himself has been here on surprise visits.
"Harry?"
He stops in his path before me, turning around in the sunlight, a questioning lo
ok on his face.
"Yes, Severus?" he replies.
Severus. Now he calls me Severus. The first time he does so. I don't know quite
what it will mean for our relationship, but. I would never have thought that suc
h a small thing could make me so happy. Nevertheless, it does, filling me with a
contentment I haven't felt since the time I finally managed to betray Voldemort
and turn to good again. However, I'm not sure I deserve it. Not after what I ha
ve done.
I reach into my pocket, grabbing the thin chain with a clear crystal hanging fro
m it. When it dangles in the air, reflecting the sunlight, it looks like the mos
t precious of diamonds. And it is precious ¨C at least to me. It's the only thin
g I have left from my family, the only thing they have given me but this house a
nd Honey.
"Wear this."
I'm surprised at the roughness my voice holds. It sounds like I'm just about to
cry. But I am not, am I? This piece of rock means a lot to me, and for me, the a
ct of leaving it to another being is very serious. Nevertheless, it has to be do
ne.
"It will protect you" I can hear my voice explain. "It looks after you, even whe
n you doesn't want it to. Even if you don't know you're in danger. And not alway
s in life threatening situations, but in small matters you will easily ignore. W
ear it always."
I hold it out to him, surprised when he doesn't take it immediately. Instead, he
scans my face, as if watching for something. Damn, this kid is too perceptive f
or his own good.
"Are you sure about this?"
His voice is soft, almost not audible, but filled with hesitation. Somehow, he h
as once again noticed my feelings. Because I don't think it's about lack of trus
t. Harry has always had good instincts.
"I can take care of myself," he continues. "I don't need this to stay alive."
I can't help but snort at this. Maybe he wouldn't need it facing Voldemort (he a
lways seems to get away unscathed from him), but he would need it in every other
situation. That boy could stumble into trouble even if he is just walking down
to his common room. But instead of trying to argue with him, I close the distanc
e between us, yank him closer and hang the crystal around his neck while mutteri
ng a locking charm ¨C and a very complicated such too.
"There" I say, true satisfaction in my voice. "Now you're caught."
His eyes widens a little, but not in panic or fright as I would've thought. I me
an, if I just had a necklace put on me with an unbreakable locking spell by my n
asty, ex-evil teacher turned nice, I would freak out. But Harry just showed his
individuality by looking surprised and slightly thankful. And suddenly, I find m
yself shuffling his hair and smiling. I'm definitively abandoning the shield I u
sually carry.
Harry's POV
One month has gone by since I first arrived now, and I find myself having one of
the best times of my life. Severus and I are beginning to really like each othe
r (still platonic, folks), finding ourselves enjoying each other's company at mo
st times. Sometimes, he seems to have a relapse though, snapping at me. And alwa
ys in reference to his past. He can see a simple article, just step into the roo
m he gave neither or me. It's spooky. I want to help him so much, but I cannot d
o that, as he won't tell me. Nevertheless, the still tightening bond between us
makes me hurt too.
At first, I had problems accepting the new him, but those doubts were put aside
when he needed help. I am not one to refuse to help anyone, even if they do not
ask for my help, and that day in the kitchen, he needed my help. If he admits it
or not. You don't need to be a genius to see that Severus still carries a lot o
f weight from his past. And you certainly don't have to look very hard to see th
at he thinks he deserves it.
Severus is a whole other person here in his home, compared to who he is at Hogwa
rts. In addition, I get the feeling it isn't just the fact that he can't make Vo
ldemort suspicious. He don't want to be seen, he don't want to be approached. He
cloaks himself in loneliness, and thinks its just fair for him to be alone and
miserable after having done whatever horrible deeds he did as a Death Eater. I t
hink the only ones who have managed to break through that fa?ade are Dumbledore
and I really. Nevertheless, if I can, I will help others to do the same. No one
needs to be lonely. No one should be. Voldemort may not even have turned out the
way he did, if he hadn't been forced to grow up in an orphanage. But then again
, it's not an excuse. You can make a turn for the better or be good from the beg
inning. Just look at Severus and me.
Once a week, approximately, he leaves by Apparating. Always after gripping his a
rm in blinding pain. I don't know if he knows that I know, but it's obvious he g
oes to Voldemort at those occasions. It's his luck I know he does it for Dumbled
ore, because when he gets back, he's usually shaking and completely gone. One of
the backsides to the Cruciatus curse. I make a point of waiting up for him, in
company of Honey, having a healing potion on the stove for his return. He certai
nly needs it. When he has drunken it, I get him into bed and hug him goodnight.
Then I spend the night in a chair beside him, listening to his every breath and
waking him up every other hour to give him more of the potion.
He never talks of these nights, but I know he's thankful. After the first night,
he even decided to tutor me in potions. Outside of course. He seems to have a t
hing for keeping me outside. Personally, I think he believes I'm too pale. Or wa
s, at least. I've acquired a tan these days and not even one sunburn. That cryst
al he gave me sure can nag sometimes.
Today is the day after one of the nights with Voldemort. We're sitting outside i
n the sun, him reading while I am preparing a potion by the name of 'Calaesumbor
a', supposedly meant to be spilled on your skin to reveal if you've had an Unfor
givable curse put on you the last two days. He hasn't told me, but I have the fe
eling this isn't potion making suitable for someone my age, but someone much old
er. Same old Severus. I can't help but smile for myself while slowly stirring th
e potion. He still has troubles acknowledging when I've done something right.
Then, suddenly, a bell tolls from somewhere within the house, startling Severus
and sending Honey off into hiding. Severus jumps to his feet and gives me a shar
p look.
"Hide" is his only word, and lead by the crystal, I run into a shrubbery, throwi
ng myself to my stomach on the ground. And in the next second, I can see two dar
k robed figures practically storming out of the house.
At least one of them is. The other one has a tight grasp on the first one, tryin
g to slow him down. When they come closer, I almost jump up from sheer surprise,
but subdue myself. It is Sirius, in a black mood suiting his surname, and a muc
h calmer Remus Lupin, who has a slightly apologetic expression on his face.
Severus is standing proudly in the middle of the flower-decorated lawn, and diff
erently from them; he wears a white tee and a pair of slacks. It has to be said
that he don't even flinch as Sirius grabs him by his neck, a murderous look on h
is face.
"Where is he?" he roars. "If you have hurt him any way¡"
Severus roughly takes his hands from his neck and steps backwards.
"In safety, Black" he coldly says. "Unlike what he would be with you."
Sirius' face gets even redder, and his knuckles whiten as he tries to keep from
punching the man in front of him. I tense, desperately trying to keep Sirius fro
m flaring up more. However, I didn't need to worry, as Remus steps between them,
hindering every chance at a fistfight.
"Calm down, Sirius" he harshly says before turning to Severus, speaking in a sof
ter tone. "We just came to visit Harry. Dumbledore told us that he would be here
."
Severus nods, a slight smirk on his face.
"Of course" he says, and then turns away, facing me.
Now, I can see that he has a slightly pained expression on his face, undoubtedly
; one of his wounds has gone up, together with a strange sense of worry. I can't
get why though, as I know that he certainly does not fear either Sirius or Remu
s. Unasked, I get up, dusting some dirt off my tee and cut jeans, walking over t
o the three of them, grabbing the cup with the healing potion I have waiting by
my cauldron.
The expressions on Remus' and Sirius' faces are hilarious. Especially Sirius'. D
id they really expect me to be beaten and tired or something? Well, I am tired,
but that's not the point, is it?
I stop as I come to Severus, silently handing him the cup. He gives me a slight
smile and a faint 'thank you', which causes some strangled noises to come from S
irius. I touch his arm in a reassuring way, and then turn to Sirius and Remus, a
bright smile on my face.
"Sirius!" I exclaim, hugging my godfather warmly.
"Harry" he affectionately replies, hugging me back.
Then he holds me at an arm's length, looking squarely at me.
"How is he" he nods towards Severus "treating you? Are you alright?"
I look at Severus, shooting him a smile. He looks much better now, talking sligh
tly with Remus.
"Severus' treating me great" I carefully assure him. "He's been helping me with
potions."
Sirius lets me go, a relieved look on his face. He has cut his hair off into a s
houlder length cut now and has gained some much needed weight. In my opinion, I
think he doesn't even look like the Sirius Black whom fled from Azkaban.
"You have resolved your issues then?" he asks.
I nod. That we certainly have. It was awkward in the beginning, but now we have
reached a state where we live as family. The trust and affection is still fragil
e between us, but it's growing stronger every day.
"Yeah, why?" I reply.
Sirius glance at Severus and Remus, then takes me outside their hearing range.
"I think it's time you know why Severus Snape and I detest each other so much" h
e softly says. "You will need to know it, believe me, if you're going to spend t
he summer with him."
Then he smirks.
"Does he still run into that ravine when coming here?" he asks.
"Yes" I grin. "It looks hilarious. How did you know?"
Sirius sobers up, looking at me, a sad look in his dark eyes, so much like Sever
us'.
"My mother, was the sister of Snape's mother," he slowly says. "As we were hidde
n by the Fidelius Charm when my aunt and her husband died, we could not take car
e of Severus. That's the reason he despises me. The reason I despise him, is tha
t he was the one who betrayed my parents by finding out who was their secret kee
per. Like some sort of revenge."
I stare at him, perplexed by what he has revealed. Severus and Sirius, cousins?
But somehow, it makes sense. And it sure explains, the hostility they hold again
st each other.
"You know he has changed" I say looking into Sirius eyes. "I know you has change
d. Can't you two just see beyond the mutual loathing you created so long ago, an
d settle this? None of you could do anything about the situation back then."
"I know" Sirius says, dragging his hands through his hair in a very Severus-ish
way. "But forgiveness has to go both ways."
You can see they're cousins. In some ways, they're remarkably alike.
"What?" Sirius asks, as he catches me smiling.
I shake my head, still smirking slightly.
"Severus does that all the time," I tell him.
Sirius gives me a strange look.
"You really like him now, don't you?" he frankly says. "Now when you have seen p
ast the animosity you held against each other."
Sev's POV
¡§That boy is an angel. I don't know how to tell him, how much I appreciate what
he does for me, after my meetings with Voldemort. Not only him watching over me
, and making the healing potion I need (I'm still wondering where he found the r
ecipe), but also the feel of being human, he gives me through a simple hug.
I quickly swallow the pleasantly cool potion in the summer heat, feeling it runn
ing through my body, taking away the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse. He ha
s seasoned it with mint and blueberry this time, giving it a winterish flavour.
"Severus?"
It is Remus of course. Who else would talk to me of their free will?
"Yes, Remus?"
I'm surprised, how tired my voice sounds. But then again, I am very tired. And i
f I am tired, I don't want to think about how tired Harry must be, after having
watched over me all night.
"Why would you need a potion, meant to heal the after-effects from the Cruciatus
curse?"
Damn the werewolf and his knowledge of potions!
"Voldemort wasn't too pleased with me yesterday" I pleasantly reply, hoping to g
et a reaction out of the imperturbable Remus.
"Why?" is his only response though.
Sigh. I guess Dumbledore told him.
"Because I hadn't found out why Harry isn't with the Dursleys this year, and whe
re he is," I simply say.
Remus just arches his eyebrows.
"That wouldn't make him too happy, no," he agrees. "Do you think Sirius is finis
hed with Harry yet?"
I glance at the pair, standing quite a bit away, Harry having an amused look on
his face as Sirius talks. Undoubtedly, Sirius has told him about our relation. H
e didn't seem to have anything against it though.
"Yes" I decide and start to walk over to them, arriving just as Sirius asks Harr
y a question.
"You really like him now, don't you?" he says, an understanding tone to his voic
e. "Now when you have seen past the animosity you held against each other."
Harry has already seen me approaching, and is looking into my eyes, as if he can
see my soul.
"No, Sirius" he softly says, almost too low for me to hear.
That little word crushes me for some reason I can't understand. It feels as if a
small knife is stabbed through my heart, causing an allergic reaction. But then
, he continued.
"I love him like a dad. He may not be my father, but in these weeks, he has been
my dad in every way possible."
Next
Chapter Four
Harry's POV
Now I know what the word 'scared' means. Not 'frightened' or 'petrified', but 's
cared'. As in the lesser component in fear. And I can't say I like it very much.
I can't believe I just burst it out. I mean, I just said it right out, 'I love
you like my dad, Severus'. Not exactly in those words, but the essence was the s
ame.
A few hours have gone by since then, but we haven't gotten the chance to talk si
nce then, as Sirius and Remus are still here. They are in the library for the mo
ment, talking with Severus. Probably about Voldemort or something else they thin
k I shouldn't hear about. But I'm fifteen darn it, soon sixteen. I won't die bec
ause I heard the word 'kill'. But do they listen to me? No.
So here I am, sitting in the cloud room, which is mine, reading a book Severus r
ecommended me. 'The potions of Karol Mikerskij'. It lists a bunch of really weir
d potions you can make from very simple and common ingredients. And despite what
one may think, it's actually interesting. I think I will test one at Malfoy whe
n I have arrived back at Hogwarts, maybe the one that makes your skin glow with
a sickish green colour. It could be fun to see his reaction.
Suddenly, I hear the faint sound of bells, signalling that Remus and Sirius have
Apparated away. Driven by an urge to stall the talk with Severus I know is comi
ng, I dive under the covers and start pretending to be asleep. Not far afterward
s, Severus opens the door and looks at me.
"Harry?" he whispers. "You're awake?"
Trying to breath easily, I neglect to answer. Severus sighs and patters into the
room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Strangely gently, he pushes my bangs
out of my face, lingering on my cheek.
"What shall I do with you, Harry?" he whispers dejectedly. "I can't be a dad for
anyone, I don't deserve it. Especially not to you. You're the Boy Who Lived, yo
u deserve someone better than I."
A faint whisper suggests that he shakes his head, and then the weight next to me
diminishes as he raises and walks back to the door. But before he closes it beh
ind him, he utters one more sentence, the one I so badly want to hear.
"I love you too, Harry," he whispers. "And I truly wish that you were my son."
Sev's POV
It is well past midnight, and I still sit in my living room, watching the flames
play in the open fire. My mind still can't get off that wave of bliss it's ridi
ng, hearing that Harry loves me and him calling me 'dad'. A word I thought no on
e would say to me after that fateful day seventeen years ago. And I sure as hell
don't deserve it. Not after what I did.
A log falls down, drowning the sound of bare feet on the floor. So, I am surpris
ed when a warm hand, rough from the work it has been forced to do in such a youn
g age, is placed on my shoulder.
"Want to talk about it?"
He knows. But how can he? No one but Dumbledore knows, and he won't betray my tr
ust like this. I must have looked nervous, because Harry hugs me from behind, sl
iding down next to me in the white couch.
"No one has told me" he softly assures me. "But I can sense there's something yo
u're not telling me. Something important, something you feel strongly about. You
r eyes get so guilty, so ashamed sometimes, so burdened with sorrow."
This adolescent is really smart. There's no use denying it. There's no use not t
elling him. He has to know, he has the right to know.
"It all began seventeen years ago."
My voice seems lifeless to me, unemotional. But I certainly don't feel that way.
It hurt talking, hurt thinking. I don't want to.
"Four years after graduation, I had married another witch from Beauxbaton, Niamh
Lind. The most beautiful blonde with the sunniest smile on earth. We had two ch
ildren together, four year old Alisha with the blue eyes and a baby boy, Donal.
We lived together in just this cottage, and we were happy. Niamh wrote books abo
ut gardening here at home, and I had a well-paid job at Hogwarts, teaching DADA.
But then, everything changed.
"I guess you can say I fell into the wrong crowd, but that wouldn't be completel
y true. Instead, I would rather say that I was curious about Voldemort, who was
a great wizard according to my good friend Lucius, the potions teacher. Because
at that time, I didn't know that Tom Riddle and Voldemort was the same man.
"I was young then, I was power hungry as most are at that age. So I couldn't see
anything wrong in wanting to be one of Voldemort's accomplices. And it was duri
ng this time, I told Lucius that I knew who was Sirius Black's and his parents'
secret keeper. Because I knew Voldemort wanted to get a hold of them ¨C or as I
know now¨C kill them. That information became my ticket into Voldemort's closest
circle.
"I became a Death Eater. Seduced by the power Voldemort had shown me, I didn't w
ant anything but it. I stopped caring about other people, about my family. My wi
fe was a 'mudblood' after all, a 'weak' wizard. But I allowed her to live; she h
ad bore me children after all.
"That peace was shattered the day I came home to find the wife of an Auror, Arab
ella Figg, talking to my wife. I freaked out, killing my wife with the Avada Ked
avra. Then I placed the Cruciatus curse on my daughter who'd been with me and tu
rned to take care of Figg. But she had evidently grabbed my baby and disappeared
, because she was gone. In rage, I increased the strength of the curse until blo
od poured out of her. She died shortly after that, her last words being 'daddy'.
But I didn't care. I just left the bodies where they were, and went back to my
lord.
"My service with him didn't end until he one day confided in me that his name on
ce had been Tom Riddle. I managed to keep my fa?ade up, but as soon as I was out
of there, I broke down, Apparated to the only father's figure I've ever had, Du
mbledore, and told him everything."
I know my face is stony, I know it seems like I don't feel anything about it. Bu
t still, I am very much aware of the fact that Harry has grasped my hand, lendin
g me the strength I need to finish my tale. And inside, I am a hurricane of feel
ings. Guilt, shame, self-blaming, hate. I can't let them out; I've kept them ins
ide for so long. It's like I have been petrified emotionally, like I can feel bu
t not show.
"You're not the person you were then, Severus"
His voice managed to penetrate my misted in brain.
"And who you were before you met Voldemort, isn't whom you were when you saw you
r family for the last time."
I know he means well, but his words do not help. He don't know how it feels to h
ave killed your family, killed them and taken pleasure it.
"I understand that you really can't take this right now. I know you believe that
this is something you can't be forgiven."
Damn right I can't!
"But then again, you are pigheaded. Yes, it was you who killed your wife and tor
tured your daughter to death. Yes, it is your fault. But only a minor part of yo
u. When you did that deed, you 'were seduced by the dark powers'. The dark arts
are poisonous, you know. If you haven't got a truly strong mind, they will slowl
y take you over. Submitting you to their will."
How does this boy know so much? Because I know no one has told him. Yet, somehow
, he takes what I'm feeling inside, grinding it into dust, and shredding it into
pieces small enough to live with.
"You are still responsible for what you did in the matter that you chose to join
Voldemort. You chose to submit into the dark side of magic. But you can't be ma
de responsible for killing your family intentionally. You had as much to say abo
ut the matter as one under the Imperius curse."
How can he know this? I can't just stop asking myself this question as he slowly
, piece by piece, takes apart my defence. He is almost sixteen, yet emotionally
he is much older. Older than me, maybe even Dumbledore.
"I do understand the guilt you're feeling won't leave you alone. I can see that
you want to make up for what you have done under Voldemort's influence. But you
and I both know that you will never really get away from that guilt. But you can
, and you will learn how to live with it, and do the best with the life you have
created for yourself after cutting your bonds with Voldemort. Your past is no r
eason to push people who care for you away. You can make amends by letting those
who wants to love you in, so making them content by being content."
I turn to him, staring at him. Now, I can see the tears falling down his cheeks;
hear the desperate tone in his voice, begging me to see what he is trying to sh
ow me. That he is shaking, fighting for a family which has been promised him the
se last weeks. Consciously on my part. And frankly, I can't stand seeing anyone
go through the hell I did.
Gently, I draw him into my embrace as he cries. Harry Potter may be the Boy Who
Lived, but he's also a human being. He may be more adult than most, but he's als
o a very young orphan. But somehow, I think many people forget to see this fact.
Instead, they only choose to see the smart, strong boy who has the ability to f
ight Voldemort and even defeat him. They neglect to see the human with feelings
behind.
In some ways, we are just too much alike. But where his choices are chosen for h
im, I did mine by myself. As I absently stroke his messy hair, I can't help but
think about what he has been telling me. He is right of course, which he almost
always has, and I will try to put my past behind me, yet learn from it. It won't
be easy, but I will try, for him, but mostly for me. We both need closure in ou
r lives, and I think we are the right persons to give it to each other.
Harry's POV
I can't describe the feeling of having a pair of comforting arms around you afte
r being without it for fifteen long years. It's simply heaven, to be held, to be
comforted when you haven't had anyone but your fugitive godfather to be there f
or you before. Even if it is mutual this time. I think Severus needs this just a
s much I do.
My mind wanders as we sit together, me hugged to his chest, staring into the fir
e, letting ourselves comfort and be comforted. And for some reason, I keep comin
g back to one little part of the story he told me.
"Severus?" I softly ask.
He grunts in response, tightening his hold on me.
"What happened with your son? I mean, that lady took him away, didn't she?"
Severus nods behind me, tensing up slightly.
"Arabella Figg" he says. "When I had turned my back on Voldemort, I tried to fin
d him, but failed. Arabella Figg had disappeared off the face of the earth, and
with her, my son. I gave up hope of seeing him a long time ago now."
I frown. I know that name. A Mrs Figg used to watch me when I lived with the Dur
sleys. What if Arabella Figg and Mrs Figg is the same person? My thoughts are in
terrupted as Severus hesitantly starts to talk to me.
"About what you said before¡"
He trails off, seemingly uncertain about the whole thing. I smile a little, deci
ding to help him onto the right track.
"That I love you and would love to call you my dad'?"
I'm pretty sure he blushed. Or at least it felt that way.
"Yes" he insecurely says. "It would be nice if¡I mean¡"
I turn around and give him my best smirk.
"Just spit it out already" I tease. "You won't die of it."
Severus laughs and shakes his head.
"Why should I do that when you already know what I'm going to say?" he teases ri
ght back.
I pout, hitting him on his shoulder. He gave me a sour look.
"If that's what you want¡"
I glare at him.
"Stop teasing me!" I complain.
Severus smirks back at me.
"You started it" he points out, then gets serious. "Potter, I would be proud to
call you my son."
I smile back.
"Well, I would be proud to be called you son" I reply, and then give him a misch
ievous smile. "Sev."
Chapter Five
Harry's POV
I can't stop thinking about it. Even though I am dead tired after being up with
Sev these two last nights, I can't sleep. And it is all because what he said to
me. Arabella Figg ¨C Mrs. Figg. Donal, his son whom was lost as a baby. Giving u
p hope, disappearing off the face of the earth. And hadn't Mrs Figg once mention
ed that she had an adopted son?
As I feel the sun rise, I give up on my much-needed sleep. Knowing that Sev is a
light sleeper, I can't stay in my room, so I silently sneak out of it, inching
past Sev's door. He needs his sleep even if I can't get mine.
When I get to the staircase, I whisper 'the living room' and do what I learnt ho
w to do after the first days here if I didn't want to be heard by everyone withi
n a three miles circumference due to the very loud creaks ¨C slide down the bani
sters. This way, I get to the bottom floor relatively silently and sneak away in
to Sev's office. I know he has an owl here, in case he has to send letters (Hedw
ig I left at Hogwarts when I thought I was going to the Dursleys) and I had deci
ded to send Mrs Figg a letter. If she is the Figg Sev talked about, she will kno
w what to do with the owl. If not, well, nothing's lost here.
I sit down by Sev's desk and look around for parchment and a quill. As the neat
freak he is with his work, he has hidden it away somewhere. After some snooping
around, I manage to find what I need put away on a shelf behind a silver green d
rape on the wall. Sigh. One would think he would've stored it on the desk, close
to use, but no. He puts it in on a shelf behind a drape.
Still a little annoyed, I sit down and start to brush off my best letter writing
skills.
"Mrs Arabella Figg!
It has come to my attention that you held an important part in an event many yea
rs ago. As this event concerns a dear friend of mine, I write to ask of you a me
eting to discuss this event. I would greatly appreciate if you could take some o
f your precious time to send a response to me by owl at your earliest convenienc
e.
Most reverent, Harry Potter."
I stare at the letter. Not the best ever written, but it would have to do. Nervo
usly, I stare at the huge eagle owl sitting at its perch, watching me unnervingl
y.
"Can you take this to Mrs Figg at Privet Drive in Surrey?" I ask, not sure what
to expect from the unusually big bird.
But it seems to be non-violent, because it just chirps and hold out its leg for
me. I exhale, relieved, and attach the letter. Then I silently watch as the owl
flies away, only to be attacked by a very noisy little Honey.
"Calm down!" I whisper furiously at her. "Sev's asleep you know!"
"Not anymore."
I whirl around, finding myself eye to eye with a bleary-eyed, very annoyed Sever
us Snape.
"Sev!" I exclaim. "You're awake!"
"How clever of you to notice the obvious" his voice is still sarcastic, but his
face softened remarkably at the name 'Sev'. "Now, may I ask why you're still up?
"
I hang my head.
"I can't sleep," I admit. "So much has happened today. I decided to just write R
on to get my mind cleared up."
Sev smiles at me and put his arm around my free shoulder.
"Then let's try now" he says. "Because I'm sure you are tired. I know I am. If y
ou still can't sleep, you should know how to make a sleeping potion by now."
I nod and let my newly acquired dad lead me up the stairs to my room. Because I
know I will sleep now when I've done what I can to find Donal.
The owl arrives three days later when I am busy picking herbs for my potions in
the forest. It is a small tawny owl and so, the bright red parchment it carries
stands out well. Landing on my shoulder, it nips my ear as it waits for me to ta
ke my letter.
Obeying, I put down my basket and unattach it, intending to seat myself on a nea
rby sunny stone, but the crystal Sev gave me immediately starts to tell me to lo
ok out for vipers. Apparently, he has forgotten to tell it I'm a parselmouth. So
, mostly to get it to stop talking, I hiss to any potential snake to keep away.
Then I open my letter.
"Harry!
Why so formal? I've known you since you were a toddler after all. You sound like
some old buffer who went to Oxford or something. Write normally the next time.
About your friend, of course we can meet. Just write and tell me where to find y
ou and I'll Apparate there within an hour. My owl Copper here is bred especially
for fast delivery.
Mrs Figg (Arabella)"
I've gotten the right lady. No use of denying that. Arabella Figg has always bee
n very frank. Scribbling down my answer with a conveniently attached quill, I se
nd Copper away again, then resume my herb collecting, keeping close to the ruins
Sev calls 'the Gingerbread House', as it were the location I had given her.
I am just carefully digging up the roots of some sort of orchid when I hear a we
ll-known voice calling my name.
"Harry, where are you?"
I look up in the general direction of the ruins, but can't see her because of th
e great pine next to me.
"I'm here, behind the big pine!" I yell back as I reach for the brush I use to g
et rid of the dirt.
Soon, I hear soft steps coming towards me, and within minutes, I can see the sli
m and fitted Mrs Figg weave her way towards me through the thick vegetation. I l
ook up briefly from my work and smile at her.
"I'll just finish this," I tell her.
Mrs Figg grins at me, studying the herbs I have already collected.
"What in the world are you making?" she wonderingly asks. "I can't remember maki
ng any potion with these herbs ever in school."
"You shouldn't have" I reply, carefully picking the thin threads off the main ro
ot to the newly picked orchid. "I think it's advanced extra study for 7th years.
I'm not sure though, Sev just gives me the recipe, goes over it with me and the
n leaves me to be. This one's supposed to heal you ¨C not like the normal healin
g potions though, but by mixing with your blood stream, speeding up your heart f
or a few seconds and heal all damaged tissue it passes by congealing and becomin
g a part of your body. It's just specifically for damage made by extensive amoun
ts of the Cruciatus. This is the first time I've picked the ingredients myself,
but I've done the potion so many times I can do it blindfolded."
Mrs Figg is staring at me, a pensive look on her face.
"You're living with Severus," she states.
I rise after putting down my root in the basket and look squarely at her.
"Yes" I calmly admit. "He told me of his life. From that, you should see the rea
son you're here by yourself."
Mrs Figg sighs and sits down on a stone, a very weary look on her face.
"Donal" she simply says. "You know where I was, differently from Severus."
I nod.
"Why didn't you answer his owls?" I gently wonder, sitting down in the sun-dried
moss, looking at her.
She shook her head.
"I wasn't sure about which side he belonged to," she slowly says. "Sure, I heard
rumours that he was now a spy for our side from my good friend Minerva McGonaga
ll, but I had no way of making sure of it. And I won't leave Donal with a Death
Eater. As I haven't been able to keep updated with the wizard's world."
It is explainable. Knowing the inhabitants of Privet Drive, it isn't hard to see
that she wouldn't have been trusted the way she had if owls had been circling h
er house every day.
"How can I convince you?" I simply say.
The old lady shakes her head.
"No need to "she tells me. "I know Dumbledore wouldn't trust you to anyone quest
ionable in any way."
I smile inwardly at that. That sentence certainly is wrong in some ways. The Dur
sleys isn't exactly what you would call an exemplary foster family. If you weren
't a supporter of slavery of course.
"Does he know about his father?"
A very important question. I, if anyone, should know that. And Mrs Figg nods.
"I've told him everything," she admits. "And even though he can't remember Sever
us, he wants to meet the man who fathered him so he can have a chance to be with
his birth family. He seems to understand that the Severus who murdered his moth
er and sister wasn't really his father. He is far trustier than I am, already wh
en Severus started teaching again, he wanted to meet him. I held him back though
."
Maybe if she hadn't, a lot would've been different now. But then again, maybe no
t for good. You shall not play with history. One of the main things I've learned
about tampering with time.
"He's eighteen now, isn't he?" I casually ask, even if I am terribly curious abo
ut the boy Sev had fathered. "Is he a wizard, has he gone to any wizard school?"
Mrs Figg chuckles at my sudden outburst of questions.
"Yes, he's eighteen" she tells me. "And he graduated from Durmstrang this spring
."
I raise my eyebrows. Durmstrang? The poor guy had to be half frozen to death. Bu
t then again, Durmstrang is famous for its successful DADA teaching (or rather t
he opposite) and it is understandable as his father had been a Death Eater.
"That's good," I simply say. "He should know how to take care of himself that wa
y."
I move to take my basket.
"Do I have your blessing then, to speak with Donal about reuniting with his fath
er?"
Mrs Figg seems to be taken with my sudden use of formal language but ignore it.
"Of course, Harry" she says. "If you can floo to my house tomorrow, I'll see to
you meet."
I nod and start to walk towards my summer home.
"See you tomorrow then"
I talk to Sev this evening about it. Or rather I ask for permission to visit a w
izard friend the next day over a magically created and disgustingly healthy dinn
er. I swear, Sev's trying to turn me into some athlete with all the health food,
outdoors exercise and Quidditch training he's been giving me since I arrived.
Anyway, Sev gives his permission. I mean, why wouldn't he? Especially as he has
to go to another meeting with Voldemort too. Now, that part, I don't like. It is
tearing me up inside having to watch him return from those meetings with Voldem
ort as a wreck. Suddenly, I am very thankful that I have been out picking the in
gredients for his healing potion.
Next morning, I can't help myself, but hug him before he leaves for the meeting.
Because I know how hard this is for him. Especially as I've heard his story. So
, I take my time to spend time with him before he leaves, trying to lend him som
e of my strength.
I'm standing by the open fire, groping around in the urn on the shelf next to th
e fire for some floo powder. Then I throw it into the fire, watching the flames
flicker and change colour. And so, after taking a calming breath, I step into th
e fire.
"Arabella Figg's home, Privet Drive!" I call out as clearly as I can.
So, the nauseating and very bumpy ride begins. I close my eyes and try to think
about something else. I truly hate travelling this way. Hate it, hate it, hate i
t¡ The floo powder kicks me out of the network, making me stumble into the cat
smelling living room of Mrs Arabella Figg. And so, I find myself eye to eye to a
tall, black-haired and green-eyed adolescent waiting for me on the couch. He do
esn't look a bit like me though. His hair is longer, his eyes paler and his skin
more golden. Then, there is the fact that he isn't as skinny as I am (even as t
he diet Sev has put me on is starting to show some results, I think). He rather
looked like his father.
"Harry Potter"
His voice is not like Sev's though. It's more melodic. He doesn't hold the same
ability to speak quietly and yet being heard through the highest screams his fat
her has. Well, I have it too. Mainly because I'm a parselmouth. Snakes can't scr
eam after all. They hiss.
"It's great to finally meet you"
He's smiling mischievously at me. And he's not staring at my scar. Which I'm ver
y thankful for.
"Thank you" I smile back. "You must be Donal."
"Yes" Donal replies, a confused look on his face. "And thank you for what?"
That made me grin. It is hard for people to understand how it feels having every
one staring at you all the time.
"For not staring" I clarify. "It's very annoying. I can't see why everyone's try
ing to idolize me because of something I didn't even rule over."
He shrugs and grins.
"You're welcome then" he grins. "And I can see you point. Personally, I'm more i
mpressed of how you manage to take everything life throws at you without getting
snotty. And by the way you handle a broom. I saw you at the Triwizard's Champio
nships. Viktor actually said you're as talented as he, maybe more."
I frown.
"Krum's one of your friends?" I ask. "He has to be one or two years older than y
ou."
Donal nods.
"Yes" he answers. "I'm in the Quidditch team as well."
Quidditch. There's a word for sore eyes.
"Which position?" I curiously ask.
"Beater" he answers with a grin just as infatuated as mine. "I've been in the te
am since I was twelve."
"Eleven" I tell him. "Our deputy headmistress McGonagall caught me as I fetched
a sphere a rival of mine, Draco Malfoy, had thrown away after taking it from a f
riend of mine on our first flying lesson."
Donal raise his eyebrows.
"You're lucky" he comments.
I shiver.
"I would rather not be," I tell him. "Maybe then, I'd stop running into trouble
all the time."
¡§Then I get serious.
"Maybe we should talk about what I came for now" I grimly suggests. "I have to b
e back in a few hours to start preparing a potion."
Donal nods, and I am very thankful for him not asking why I have to prepare a po
tion. I certainly shouldn't be the one to tell him about that. And as he leads m
e through the house to something I suspect is his rooms, I ponder where to start
.
Chapter Six
Harry's POV
We find ourselves seated in his bedroom, Donal in an armchair, with me on the be
d. A silence has settled in the room, as neither of us knows how to start. How d
o I breech the subject of reuniting with a father he has never known and whom ki
lled and tortured his mother and sister anyway?
"You know my father" Donal finally starts, curiosity tinting his voice. "And bef
ore you ask, I know about what he did. I understand that he isn't the person he
was when he did those things. Though I have to admit it's is easier to accept, a
s I've never known my mother or sister. What I want to know is: what's he like n
ow?"
I look seriously at him. It is a hard question for someone who has seen both his
bad and good sides intimately. But I will try to answer that, even as it's hard
to find words to describe someone like Sev.
"He's intelligent" I slowly start. "Extremely so. He can see through every lie y
ou can think of, sense if something is wrong. Lethal in both mind and temper. On
the outside, he's sarcastic, cool, and ruthless and he can be surprisingly nast
y to the ones he holds grudges against. And that, he can do for a long time, eve
n long after the person in question are dead. Amongst the dead, my father. Among
st the living, not long ago, myself.
"This is part of his personality, but he also has another side he never shows an
yone, a side he tries to deny. Because inside, he's human. He can be both scared
and nervous, even if he's imperturbable for those looking at him. He's loyal to
the end if you are loyal to him. Quick minded, careful and silent, he prefers t
o watch and protect from afar, and keep out of the spotlight, even if he deserve
s it. This is mostly because of the shame he holds inside for having been a Deat
h Eater. All the self-hatred, all the disgust. It's only recently, he's begun to
come to terms with it at all."
I do not mention the talk I had with him about that. It's too precious, too pers
onal for me to share, even with his son by blood. Donal's listening to me though
, I can see it. He's practically soaking up my every word. The way I do when som
eone talks about my parents. The only difference is that his father is alive and
mine are not.
A silent tear fall from my eye. I don't think Donal noticed it though. And for t
hat, I'm happy. I have never really grieved over my parents; let myself accept t
heir absence. Because even as I have two father figures now, in my godfather, in
Sev, no one can really take a parent's place. I may not have known them, but I
still love them. Just as I love Sirius and Sev.
Too keep from starting to cry, I start talking again.
"We have made our peace offerings now" I say, my voice thick and heavy under the
pressure of my tears. "I have had the privilege to meet the Sev who once was. A
humorous, kind and patient man who's a very good cook (AU: don't you dare laugh
) and adores his work as a potions teacher, even as he can't help but yearn for
the position which was once his."
I will say it now, even though I'm starting to realize what this will mean to ou
r relationship. But I'm doing it for Sev, my 'dad'. For Donal, his son.
"You should meet him," I softly say. "I think you will like each other. And he w
ill be very happy to see you, Donal. He spent years searching for you."
Donal has tears in his eyes, and I can see that he yearns to meet the only paren
t he has left.
"I want to meet my father," he chokingly says. "As soon as possible. I've wanted
to do that for a long time, and now when I'm finally able to¡"
I understand the feeling all too well. The tears are becoming stronger now, I ha
ve to get away.
"Come to the cottage tomorrow afternoon" I suggest. "He'll be there then."
And he'll recover from the meeting. Donal nods and follows me back to the firepl
ace. We don't say a word and as I'm once again whirling through the floo network
, I let the tears loose, feeling them stream down my cheeks. As I crash into the
living room, I don't even bother to try keep my legs upright, but collapse on t
he floor. I just curl into a ball letting the pain get the best of me. The pain
of never knowing my parents, the pain of having my first father's figure on the
run. The pain coming from the fear of loosing my second to his real son. And why
wouldn't I? Any family I've ever had has either been lost to me or never was a
family at all.
Honey has found me now and is trying to console me by cuddling her soft, furry b
ody to mine. It's not helping much, but I'm thankful for the company as the pain
I'm feeling just wreaks havoc inside. But even pain has an end. As I sit up, st
roking Honey absently while the crystal nags about how I should go to bed and sl
eep, I glance at the clock Sev has in his living room ¨¤ la Muggles. I have to b
egin making the potion now. Emotional pain is nothing to the pain coming from th
e word 'crucio'. Even as Donal will probably be the one to make the potion in th
e future, I will not let Sev hurt now. I will do my best for him the time I have
left until Donal arrive.
Some time during my crying fit, I have decided what to do. I will make it easier
for both Sev and me by leaving as he meets Donal. Sirius will welcome me if I c
ome to visit for the rest of the summer, I know that. And this way, no one but m
e will be hurt. Next summer, I'll go back to the Dursleys, and I will be forever
thankful for the summer I had.
I'm almost asleep when Sev arrives, potion next to me, ready and flavoured with
strawberry and raspberry. But as soon as he Apparates into the room, I jerk awak
e and walk over to him. This time, Voldemort seems to have gone easy at him, he
will not need more than one cup of the potion. He's even fit enough to stand on
his own as I greet him with a hug and the potion. But something is different and
I can feel his eyes watching me all the time.
When we're finally upstairs, I get to know why, as he follows me into my room an
d look at me as I scramble under the covers. Then he sits down on the edge and l
ook into my eyes with his expressive black ones.
"I can see that you've been crying," he simply says.
Oh no. I haven't thought of that. Stop looking at me like that. If he continues
doing this, I know I'm going to break down. I know it.
"Want to tell me why?" he softly continues, refusing to let my eyes go.
I've not felt as trapped like this before, even with Voldemort. Sev just looks a
t me, asking me to tell him and I'm having a real hard time refusing to.
And so, I break down.
Sev's POV
Relief and happiness is what I feel as I Apparate home and see Harry half asleep
on the couch. I' don't think the boy understands how much it worries me when I
can't keep an eye on him. How much I care for him. I love him, not only as a son
, but also as a very dear friend. He managed to penetrate my shield and now, I d
on't believe I can let him out again even if I wanted to.
Then, as he comes to give me our ritual hug and the healing potion, I see it. He
's been crying. There are swollen, red bags under his eyes, and they scream of t
he pain he tries to hide inside. Something has happened while I was gone. Someth
ing that has brought him back into the state he was in when he left his relative
s. Anxiousness and concern are what I feel now as I walk with him up the stairs
to our bedrooms. My heart silently pleads with him to tell me what's wrong, but
my mind tell me I have to ask. This adolescent boy does not want to burden me; h
e keeps being as strong as people think he is. Taking on more than his young sho
ulders can bear.
When he has crept under the cover, I gracefully sit down on the edge of the bed,
searching for his eyes. I do not speak for a while after that, just look into h
is eyes, asking him to tell me what's wrong. First when he refuses, I speak out
loud.
"I can see that you've been crying" I simply say, giving him another chance to e
xplain.
He jumps at that, his eyes getting slightly nervous and even more pained. I can
see that his shields are breaking. There's just a matter of time.
"Want to tell me why?" I gently ask, letting my feelings show in my voice.
I'm truly worried. I haven't seen him cry one time before coming here, and when
here, he's only cried because of me. Which does not make my worry any easier to
bear.
"I can't tell you."
I can barely hear his voice. It's so quiet, so heavy with tears. They have start
ed to fall again.
"I want to, but I can't. There's nothing you can do anyway."
Nothing I can do? I ponder, but readily hold him as he cries against my chest. S
o, I almost miss the words he whispers into my cloths.
"I feel so alone¡"
I should've known. But as he said, there's really nothing I can do but try and r
eassure him that I'm here, that I will always be here. That, and hurry up with t
he plan. But that can wait, I think, as tears are welling up in my eyes as well.
I cry a lot these days. But then again, I have not cried nearly enough in my li
fe. But somehow, I know that Harry will be the one to be comforted this night. F
or now, Harry is in more pain than I am.
Next
Chapter Seven
Sev's POV
All the next day, I have the feeling Harry is only going through the motions. He
seems strangely absent and keeps forgetting things as if his head is filled by
something else. And he keeps close to me. He spends so much time with me doing t
hings he don't like he seems sick. Maybe it is because of his breakdown yesterda
y, but somehow, I think not. I rather think he's planning something. Something i
mportant he really doesn't want to do, but has to. It worries me. He worries me.
Sometime after another healthy meal made by me, he disappears though, leaving me
alone in my potions room. He stays away for half an hour and then, he return, a
sad, desperate look on his face and a parchment clutched tightly in his hand.
"Sev?" the word rolls off his lips with a yearning meaning behind it. "Can you c
ome with me? I want to show you something."
I look questioningly at him and nod, pulling the cauldron off the magically crea
ted flame. This has to be it. The thing he worries so much about.
He leads me to the stairs and call out 'the living room', creating a weird looki
ng phenomena as the staircase suddenly appears to dive into the floor, down to t
he living room. But I take no notice of it, used to it as I am, and silently fol
low him to library door. There we stop, and Harry turns to me and hugs me tightl
y to him in an almost distressed way. Then he backs away, suddenly blank faced a
nd brave once again.
"Just go through the door and you'll find it."
He's surprisingly calm when he says that, not showing any emotions. But his eyes
betray him, screaming out the anguish he truly feels.
"Take this," he says, holding out the folded parchment. "But do not open it unti
l you've entered the library."
And before I'm able to say anything, he opens the door and practically run away,
leaving me to stare into the room. There's a young man waiting for me inside. A
little over six feet tall, a little shorter than me, and built like a beater. H
is black hair almost reaches his waist and his skin is as tanned golden as mine.
But the fact that captivates me so much is his pale, green eyes. The eyes of hi
s mother. Because he can only be Donal.
There are no words to describe the feeling of seeing him standing there, alive a
nd well, a wondrous expression on his face, so much like his mother. His eyes ex
press the hesitation, the utter joy, the fear of meeting me, and I feel the same
thing. We do not know what to do.
"Donal?" I hesitantly say, a tremor in my voice I am not used to having.
He stare at me, then apparently makes a decision.
"Father" he simply states and walks over to me.
We look into each other's eyes a few seconds, trying to read each other's souls.
Can we be a family again? Having been apart for all our lives, we may never ful
ly reach the closeness of those who have if we pursue a relationship as a family
. But I will fully try if we decide to do that, and I think Donal will too. Beca
use I can sense it in the air, read it in his eyes. We want to know each other.
And that get us a long way. And if Harry and I became family in only months, Don
al and I certainly have a chance too.
I do not know whom of us moved first, but suddenly we hug, happy to finally meet
. Happy that we have reached the unspoken decision to try and become a family. T
ogether with Harry.
"It's so great to see you," he hoarsely says. "I've wanted to meet you for so lo
ng, it's so¡"
Words are not enough for the guilt I feel inside in that moment. What if he does
n't know? What if he hates me? Donal is not Harry, grown beyond his years.
"I'm sorry," I silently say. "I should've been there¡"
I don't come any longer, as Donal interrupts me as he separates from me, a grim
look on his face.
"Don't blame yourself," he sternly says. "As I believe Harry has already told yo
u, you couldn't really help it."
Surprise floods me at that. Surprise that Donal does not blame me, surprise that
Harry told him of our little talk.
"I know" I quietly admit. "Did Harry tell you?"
"No" Donal says. "But the undertones were obvious. He truly loves you. Am I righ
t when I say I will have a brother?"
"You have nothing against it?" I say, surprised.
I will not abandon the trust Harry has given me. Donal may be my son by blood, b
ut I will not let go of Harry just because of petty dislike. But it seems like t
hat situation won't arise.
"No" he softly says. "I would love to have a brother."
Then he goes sombre.
"But he seemed awfully torn up when he went to fetch you" he adds. "Has somethin
g happened?"
And suddenly, everything clicks into place. His strange behaviour today, his bre
akdown yesterday. This is what it was all about. I curse and rip the parchment o
ut of my pocket, folding it up and reading it.
"Sev!
I guess it's time for me to leave now, when your real son, Donal, is back in you
r life. First, I had planned to leave without telling you, but then, I decided t
o leave you this letter.
I guess you have met Donal by now. He's a nice young man and I think you'll like
each other. Besides, he's your son.
I locked Honey into the room you gave me to stop her from following me. You can
give her to Donal now.
As the locking spell you used to secure the crystal is too advanced for me, I ca
n't take it off by myself, but I'll send it to you as soon as possible.
Last, all I want to say is that this month has been the happiest of my life and
that I hope you will be happy.
Always, Harry."
With that, I curse again, probably shocking Donal with my foul language. He star
es at my panicked face, and then grabs the note for him to read. Half a minute l
ater, he shocks me with his foul language. Then we dash as one out of the room a
nd up the stairs. I blast the door open and is attacked by a distressed Honey. S
omehow I seem to have forgotten to tell him that Honey chooses whom to be with.
Absently, I stroke her.
"He's gone," Donal says, worry in his voice.
"No" I say, just as absently. "I know where he is."
Harry's POV
I have planned this well. The moment Sev looks through the door into the room, I
run away, up the stairs to my room. There, I pack my things, giving Sev time to
remember me, come to me. But I know he won't. Nothing can break the bonds betwe
en parent and child. What I have shared with him means nothing when compared to
that.
I have already decided where to go. Sirius told me he lived with Remus at his co
ttage for the moment, and that's where I'm going. Not on my firebolt though, but
by floopowder. I just hope he's connected to the network.
Not wanting to disturb Sev and Donal, I decide to use the fireplace in Sev's roo
m. I have already taken floopowder from downstairs so I just have to throw it in
, squeeze the trunk into the fireplace and fit myself into it as well. Then I'm
ready to go.
"Remus Lupin's cottage," I call out, sending my world into the puking feeling wh
irl of flooing.
Thankfully, it doesn't take very long, and soon, I fall out of a tiny open fire,
the trunk falling after me. A loud bang is heard as we land, and it sends the t
wo well-known figures of Remus and Sirius into the room, staring at me where I l
ie.
"Can you please help me up?" I ask, looking at their baffled faces.
In a hurry, they get to my side. Sirius get the trunk off me, while Remus helps
me up and assists me in getting rid of all the grime stuck to my cloths. Then th
ey place themselves in front of me, looking curiously at me.
"Why are you here, Harry?" Sirius gently asks. "Is something wrong with Severus?
"
I do notice his new address of Sev, but at the moment, I can honestly say that I
really do not care at this point.
"I don't belong with him anymore," I simply say, even as it hurts like hell insi
de.
At that, Sirius and Remus share a long look and to my surprise, Sirius doesn't l
ook mad at all. I had thought he would try to go after him by now. In this momen
t, I really wonder what they talked about in the library just a few days ago.
"What makes you think that?" Remus carefully enquires.
I look down. I really have no right to be sad when I am the one who brought Dona
l to his real father.
"I found Sev's son and reunited him with his father," I say. "They are together
now."
Another long look are shared between the two wizards, and as if Sirius had told
him telepathically, Remus gives me a quick smile and disappears. At the same tim
e, Sirius walks towards me, a serious expression on his face.
"I think we need to talk," he seriously says.
I am confused and look that way also as my godfather leads me out of the room, u
p a staircase and into a small cosy sitting room, where he silently beckons to m
e to sit down in the couch, taking place next to me. He looks me in my eyes for
several moments, and then starts to talk, never letting go of my eyes.
"Harry, what is the meaning of family?" he softly says, very aware of my increas
ing confusion. "I know you haven't really been a part of one, but what do you be
lieve it should be like?"
Family? Why is he talking about family? Nevertheless I will answer him as well a
s I'm able to with my small amount of experience.
"It's the ones you love closely," I obediently answers. "Not only parents, sibli
ngs and relatives, but also everyone else whom you hold close to your heart."
Sirius smiles faintly at my explanation, but the serious air around him doesn't
even diminish a little.
"Exactly" he softly agrees. "Now, what do you feel about me? Would you consider
me family?"
I don't understand where he is trying to get me, because somehow, I don't think
this is about Sirius need for love.
"I love you, you are my godfather," I confusedly answer though. "Of course I con
sider you family."
"And Hermione, Ron, Sev?" he continues.
"Them too."
Sirius grips my hands now, conveying the severity of the situation I still don't
understand.
"Would you ever kick us out if your father came back to life, even if he asked y
ou to?" he plainly says.
"No" I immediately say. "I would never¡"
I trail off. I understand now. With my lack of experience I've made a grave mist
ake that quite possibly can cause a great rift between Sev and me.
"Do you see where I'm going?" Sirius gently says.
I blink, inwardly beating myself up for being so stupid.
"Yes" I silently say. "Even if Sev has gotten his son back, he won't just automa
tically shut me out of his heart and home."
"That's right" Sirius says, laughter in his voice. "And if I remember how that n
ecklace of yours works correctly, Sev should be¡"
He doesn't get any longer as a cold and horrifying voice is heard from downstair
s.
"Where is he, Remus?"
It's Sev, and I have never heard him so furious before.
Next
Chapter Eight
Harry's POV
I swallow as I hear Sev stomp up the stairs, looking nervously after Sirius, who
m is just disappearing through the door to an adjoining room. But I know I have
to do this on my own. I was the one who messed up; I am the one who has to fix i
t. Yet, as the door is thrown wide open, I can't help but wince.
To say Sev looks pissed would be a true understatement. His black eyes are blazi
ng, and his knuckles have whitened. Slowly, he raises one arm and beckons for me
to approach him. I obey, not wanting to test his patience even more. Because th
is Sev is more like my teacher and less like the man I consider my dad. Another
proof he is both. I stop before him, nervously looking into his eyes. His eyes b
laze at me, but then he surprises me by hugging me tightly to him.
"Oh Harry," he mumbles into my hair. "I can't believe how completely stupid you
are sometimes. To believe I would stop loving you just because you gave me back
my son!"
He puts enough space between us to glare at me.
"Use your brain" he suggests, "Have I not told you over and over again I love yo
u? I understand that this is new to you, but¡"
I blush.
"Talk to me damn it!" he almost snarls. "Don't go off like that. Do you know how
worried I was?"
I look onto the floor, ashamed. Now afterwards, it was not very hard to see the
faults in what I did. He had told me he loved me; he had assured me he wouldn't
leave me. Yet, I didn't see.
Sev sighs and gently puts a finger under my chin, lifting my face so I am lookin
g into his eyes.
"¡Talk to me" he says almost pleadingly. "Let me help you adjust to a family. D
on't do what you did ever again. Please?"
It is almost comical how strangled he sounds when he chokes out that last word.
Severus Snape never says 'please'. But the severity of the moment just puts a we
ight behind the word and I can't help but see the desperation behind it.
"I won't," I silently promise him, looking squarely at him. "Sirius was kind eno
ugh to spell out the mistakes I did."
Sev rolls his eyes, clearly relieved by my promise. Then he hugs me tightly agai
n before stepping back.
"Let's go," he softly says. "I think it's time for you to know what Sirius and I
have planned. Besides, I'm sure he wants to make sure I haven't ripped you into
pieces."
I growl a little. Here I have hoped they had put their differences behind them,
but Sev just proved me wrong.
"You're such babies," I mutter under my breath.
Sev raise his eyebrows, but doesn't say anything as we continue walking. And I'm
not sure about what to expect.
Sirius' POV
I've hated Severus for as long as I can remember. Sure, in the beginning, it was
just petty dislike of a fellow student, but when he betrayed my parents, it bec
ame personal. Our quarrels and duels have gone to history at Hogwarts. But we ne
ver stopped to see the persons inside. Not that I wanted to, Severus is a slimy
git after all, but we didn't consider why we did what we did.
Then we didn't see each other for a long time. Twelve years to be exact. And by
then, Harry had come into my life. As the son of my best friends and my godson,
he means more to me than the world. He's the only one left after Lily and James
and the boy whom I babysat countless times when he was younger. I love him dearl
y.
Severus at that time was still free and he hated me still. But that was all righ
t, I detested him too. The thing that was not all right was that he hated Harry.
However, there was nothing I could do about that as I was, am, a fugitive. Even
though I wanted to take care of Harry I couldn't. And I blamed Severus.
I lived at the run, only getting to meet the boy I loved at rare occasions, havi
ng to be satisfied with letters. And then, the Triwizard tournament came, and ev
erything changed. Harry changed, Voldemort changed and Dumbledore changed us. Fo
r the first time, I shook hands with my enemy. Then Dumbledore dragged us both o
ff to his office to get us to leave explanations to each other.
I never knew he was my cousin. I never knew he had to grow up the way he did bec
ause of the fact that we lived under the Fidelius charm. But it certainly explai
ned why Dumbledore forced us to live together after my parents' deaths in 7th ye
ar. And while it didn't make me love him, it made me understand he had his reaso
ns, and we reached some sort of tentative understanding.
But that shattered when I heard that Harry had gone off to live with him for the
summer. And when he told me he considered him a dad, it hurt. It hurt so much.
But I understood. Severus was there, I wasn't. While Harry loved me, I couldn't
be a 'dad' as I couldn't be with him. My hatred blossomed.
Then Remus and Severus ganged together. Now that's a sight I do not want to see
again. Anyway, they practically beat it into my brain that Harry loved me that h
e didn't love Severus more, that he did consider me a father's figure, and that
while Severus and Harry shared things I can't understand, Harry and I do the sam
e. And then Severus declared that he would help me catch Peter, for 'Harry's sak
e'. I hate that man!
Anyway, I did understand, and the speech I gave Harry is actually a rip off from
the one I got from the 'inquisitors from hell'. I'm beginning to see what he me
ant about Harry and me sharing things they didn't. We do the same mistakes.
I left them upstairs to talk things out. I don't like the fact that I can't take
part, but I can't. I did my thing before when I had my talk with him. So instea
d, I chat with Donal downstairs, marvelling over the fact that I've known him fo
r years and never suspected he was Severus' son. Because I've spent considerably
much time at Arabella Figg's house, one of my main hiding places. It feels stra
nge to realize I have another relative so suddenly.
"How come you never told me?" I ask after having spent a few minutes discussing
old memories.
Donal shrugs and gives me an infuriating smile.
"You never asked" he says and grins. "Besides, I had no idea you know my father.
"
I grimace.
"We aren't exactly the best of friends, you know" I reply. "I don't think he'll
approve of us being friends. Or the hair thing."
Donal chuckles and flips his long, black hair over his shoulder, imitating a ges
ture I use to make all the time. His hair is only an inch longer than mine, so i
t looks very accurate.
"It's my hair," he says, smirking. "I can do whatever I want with it."
I just shake my head.
"Yes" I agree "but somehow, I don't think he'll like the fact that you copied my
hairstyle."
A growl is heard from behind me, and I turn to see Severus and Harry behind me,
the latter smirking, the former glaring. Harry walks up to me and hugs me.
"Thank you" he whispers.
I smile at that. The soft words sooth my pain and let me feel happy again.
"You're welcome" I whisper back, and then speak aloud. "So Severus. Don't you li
ke that I know your son?"
Severus continues to glower at me and Remus and Harry collectively sigh while Do
nal looks faintly amused. But as much as I love annoying Severus, we have other
things to discuss.
"Let's cut to the chase" I comment and invite Harry to sit in the couch with me.
"As we're all here, we may as well have that talk."
Harry bounces onto the couch next to me, sprawling out in a position looking ver
y uncomfortable.
"What talk?" he asks as Severus tries to decide if to sit next to him or in the
armchair across the room, as far away from me as possible.
Harry makes the choice for him though, tugging sharply at his shirt, sending him
down onto the couch in a highly undignified way. Then he winks at me, making me
chuckle slightly before answering the question.
"Severus and I made a deal," I explain. "For your sake, we will tolerate each ot
her. He will also help me prove myself innocent. Besides that, I'm going to stay
with you and him on the holidays."
That last thing, we had not agreed on though. Harry doesn't know that though, an
d the matter is quickly settled as he throws himself around Severus' neck, huggi
ng him tightly.
"Thank you, Sev!" he says.
Severus awkwardly hugs him back while glowering at me. He has become as Harry-wh
ipped as I, there's no way he'll deny it now. And as I see the Boy Who Lived's s
mug look as he settles down between Severus and me again, I start to suspect tha
t Harry caught my bluff and skilfully manipulated his new won father's figure in
to submission. That boy is dangerous. Sometimes, I'm truly surprised he didn't e
nd up in Slytherin.
Remus and Donal seem to have caught up too, because they look highly entertained
.
"You know you were just elegantly manipulated, right father?" Donal chuckles.
Severus lightly smacks Harry and fake glares at him.
"No!" he sarcastically says. "Naughty, naughty Harry."
Sev's POV
And now he's manipulating me. Gee, isn't it fun to experience fatherhood? Jokes
aside, I'm overjoyed to have found Harry well and safe, and to have talked throu
gh the matter of his disappearance with him. I love the boy, and I won't stand f
or him getting hurt. Even if it means I'll have to put up with Sirius every holi
day.
I'm worried about what will happen when the summer holiday is over though. When
I will be under the direct eye of Voldemort again and Sirius will be on the run
again. Then we will not be able to be together as much as now and I will have to
act nasty again. If only I can be sure on how that will affect our relationship
. My doubts are probably foolish, but I can't help having them. Besides, I wonde
r what Granger and Weasley will say about Harry and me being family.
If someone were to take a picture of us now, I doubt that anyone will see anythi
ng but a big, happy family. Harry, Sirius and I sit in the couch with Harry in t
he middle, smiling brightly due to the light atmosphere created by Harry's littl
e trick. Remus sits in an armchair opposite of Sirius, looking pleased with a tw
inkle in his eyes I haven't seen in quite a while. And opposite of me, my lost s
on Donal sits, gazing at Harry and grinning. Somehow, I think they'll be good fr
iends.
It has been a good evening tonight. And even if it will not last forever, it wil
l be a memory to hold on to. A memory to bring hope and happiness to our minds a
nd hearts. Because tonight, there are no hostility, not even between Sirius and
me.
Then suddenly, a loud pop is heard from the open fire, startling us all. Sirius
is actually already on his feet, wand pointing at the open fire. But instead of
a deatheater or something like that, a small furry whirlwind has cuddled itself
against Harry, making small, satisfied noises. Honey found her master.
Epilogue
Harry's POV
It has been an¡eventful summer. But now, it's over. I'm standing at the side at
platform 9 ?, Honey wrapped securely around my neck, Padfoot lying smugly on my
feet. Donal is talking animatedly to me, trying to explain how you get to Durms
trang. I'm listening, but not with all my attention. Sev is standing a few feet
away, looking mostly like a dementor in human disguise as he glowers at everyone
daring to come near us. That man could easily win an Oscar for his acting skill
s.
This is the last time for a while we will see each other. Sirius and Donal will
be going away, and Sev will be teaching again. Yet, I can't feel completely sad
about it. I mean, this means I'll meet Hermione and Ron again. And to be honest,
Sev's and Sirius' constant bickering is starting to get on my nerves. Because e
ven as they're not openly hostile anymore, they aren't best friends either.
And now the wall posing as the gateway shimmers, activating to let in the first
students. We share a last goodbye and then I'm alone again, seeing as Sev brings
Honey to Hogwarts so she won't have to endure the bumpy train ride there.
Students fill the platform now, and I spot Draco at the far end, climbing onboar
d one of the cars at the front. Thank God, I didn't run into him, or I might hav
e used one of the hexes Sirius and Donal have taught me this summer. But that wo
n't do. Yet at least.
"Harry!"
It's the voice of a girl and I turn around just in time to receive a warm hug fr
om Hermione.
"Mione!" I smile. "It's great to see you again!"
And it is. She has grown over the summer, filling out and becoming a pretty youn
g woman. Personally, I think Ron will be tongue-tied
"I have had such an exciting summer!" Hermione smiles. "Mom and dad brought me t
o Scandinavia to hike in the mountains, celebrate Midsummer and see wild dragons
. I've learned so much!"
I grin back at her. She may have changed outwardly, but inwardly, she's quite th
e same.
"I'm happy for you," I reply. "My summer was pretty good too."
Hermione nods, an expression of wonder on her face.
"I still have a hard time believing it," she says. "I mean, Snape nice, kind eve
n! That alone is a miracle. And then you are 'family'¡ You must be so happy, Ha
rry!"
"Believe me, I am," I grin. "But I could live without the nagging. I swear, I've
been out every day this summer. And if I ever have to eat a meal as balanced as
those Sev makes me, I'm going to scream."
Hermione looks amused at my vivid language, but gives me an appraising look.
"It has done a lot of good though," she comments. "You look like a gingerbread,
and I wouldn't be surprised if you're even taller than Ron now. It's like you ha
ve physically become a perfectly normal teenage boy just over the summer."
I shrug, trying not to roll my eyes.
"It wasn't my idea," I tell her. "Sev has strange ideas on how a healthy boy sho
uld be. And if you add Remus' and Sirius' ideas to that¡"
I don't get any longer as Ron comes sprinting over to us. Hermione is right. I d
o top Ron with about an inch now.
"Mione, Harry!" he yells.
Hermione and I smilingly meet him.
"Hi, Ron!" I grin.
"Harry, you've grown," Mrs Weasley states as she manages to catch up with her so
n.
Ron only stares.
"Summer with Snape sure has been good to you," he finally says. "I never thought
I'd say this, but thank God for Snape. You're not a midget anymore Harry."
Hermione whacks him.
"That was just down right rude," she tells him.
And poor Ron melts into mush. He's almost embarrassingly taken with Hermione's n
ew looks.
"You're pretty!" he almost cries.
I snicker and Hermione looks pleased. Those two can be so fun to look at sometim
es.
"Well, thank you, Mr Weasley" she nobly says, then laughs and hugs him too.
The colour of Ron's face rapidly becomes a shade redder than his hair.
The Great Hall seems to be even louder this year as everyone but the 1st years h
ave sat down, I notice. I'm chatting slightly with Ron and Hermione, waiting for
the feast to begin. So far, neither Sev nor Honey have arrived; even if I doubt
it will take much longer for either of them.
I glance at my wristwatch, and then poke my two best friends. As they look quest
ioningly at me, I smile smugly.
"Watch Malfoy" I whisper.
Heading my advice, they look over to the Slytherin table just as the white haire
d Deatheater's child sips on his pumpkin juice. Then, suddenly, he sprouts two e
legantly twisted horns as his face suddenly develops a drastic growth of facial
hair. Ron chokes on his chocolate frog and Hermione seems to fight back a sudden
urge to laugh. Those around her don't manage as well though, and it doesn't tak
e long until Malfoy is the centre of everyone's attention.
"A simple potion," I comment as his fellow Slytherins try to unhex him, unsucces
sfully I might add. "Has skin of a Boomslang as a main ingredient, but flavourin
g it with a bezoars stone makes you grow horns as well as a nice, bushy beard."
Hermione looks at me with a musing look on her face.
"I guess you've learned a bit about potion making when you lived with him," she
slowly says.
I nod, hiding a grin as Sev enters the Hall from a side door. He only glances at
Malfoy, and then raises one eyebrow in my direction. Then I don't notice much m
ore as my face suddenly is cuddled by a hyper Honey.
"Calm down!" I mutter and pry her from my face, settling her on my shoulder.
Squeaking accusingly at me, she wraps her long tail securely around my upper che
st as if to keep me from disappearing. Ron and Hermione watch me struggle with c
urious looks on their faces.
"This is Honey" I introduce. "I believe I told you about her in my letters?"
Hermione nods.
"You did," she says. "She's so cute!"
Ron and I share a resigned look as Hermione pets the cuddly creature I now wear.
Girls! Then my friends freeze and I hear the beloved voice of Sev from behind.
"The try-out potion I assume?" he softly says, so low that no one but Ron, Hermi
one can and me hear while glaring menacingly at me as to not make anyone suspici
ous.
"Yes, sir" I reply with a naughty grin.
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he looks at me.
"Well done," he comments under his breath, then glide away to bring Malfoy to th
e hospital wing while looking remarkably unpleasant.
"Wow" Ron breaths. "He really is nice."
I shrug and glance at the doors.
"Oh, look, they're coming!" I exclaim.
And as we turn to watch the Sorting begin, we can truly feel that the new school
year has begun. That we finally are 6th years.

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